


Of coffee and comfort

by Melacka



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mild Angst, Mother-Daughter Relationship, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14251014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melacka/pseuds/Melacka
Summary: She tries to fill her days with enough activity to tire her out sufficiently to go to sleep but it hasn’t been working. She needs to talk to someone and she knows exactly who that someone is.After her return from the cabin, Liz is haunted by images of Tom's death and regret over Agnes. She turns to Red, looking for some answers over coffee and comfort.





	Of coffee and comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little while.

Liz hasn’t been sleeping well lately. She can’t seem to stop the images of Tom being stabbed from playing on an endless loop in her mind. She tries to distract herself, but everything comes back to that. She knows that he was keeping something from her, knows that he was risking the safety of his family in pursuit of it, but all she can think about is the look on his face as he was stabbed. His groans of pain reverberate in her skull. The images of the men who were going to kill her moving around her apartment taunt her as she goes about her day. She sighs and turns over, trying to find a comfortable position. When she doesn’t think about Tom, it’s Agnes. Her daughter being raised by a virtual stranger, maybe even forgetting who she is. A decision made quickly that haunts her daily. It isn’t regret she feels. Nothing as simple as that.

She tries to fill her days with enough activity to tire her out sufficiently to go to sleep but it hasn’t been working. She needs to talk to someone and she knows exactly who that someone is. She’s been feeling restless since she got back from the cabin and is painfully aware of how few people she has left that she could turn to at a time like this. She glances at her phone: 2:44 AM. She’s been staring at the ceiling in her pitch-black bedroom for over two hours. She sighs again, deciding to just send him a message. She knows that he doesn’t sleep much and that a message alone is unlikely to disturb him if he _is_ asleep. She picks up her phone and taps out _Are you awake?_ quickly, sending it before she can talk herself out of it. She passes the time by deliberately _not_ looking at her phone, trying to convince herself that she doesn’t mind either way if he responds or not. She has almost given up on getting anything from him when her phone lights up.

_Yes, is something wrong?_

_No, nothing wrong._ She pauses to think before adding: _I wanted to talk to you._

She waits impatiently for his response, knowing that texting can be time-consuming on his phone. Knowing, also, that for all his skill and dexterity in other things, he can barely get his phone to function sometimes.

_You wanted to speak to me at 3AM?_

_Yes._

_Are you sure there is nothing wrong?_

_Yes._

She keeps her phone in her hand and waits. She doesn’t think he’ll refuse her, but she needs confirmation. She really does want to talk to him.

_Very well. I can be there in 20 minutes. Unless you would rather meet somewhere else?_

_No, here is good. See you soon._ She hesitates for a moment and then adds: _Thanks, Red._

She rolls out of bed and quickly slips a sweater over her head before padding quietly towards the kitchen to make some coffee. She knows that she probably won’t be sleeping tonight and would like to have something to offer him when he arrives. Now that it’s just her in the apartment, fresh food has become almost comically scarce. She knows that she needs to take better care of herself. She owes it to Agnes, if nothing else. Her mind quickly skitters away from the thought of her daughter. She can’t go down that road, not now. Not with Red on his way over. She sits down at the table to watch the coffee machine work, trying to clear her mind enough that she will be able to speak to him when he arrives. She tries not check her phone too often as the minutes tick by, ridiculously nervous that he may have changed his mind and decided not to come.

Before too long she hears a quiet knock at her door. She startles slightly, even though she is expecting him. She approaches silently, gun in hand, sparing a thought for how she almost rivals Red in her newfound focus on personal security. She fears that it is beginning to border on paranoia, but that is a problem for another night. She checks the peep-hole and sees only the reassuring tilt of a well-made fedora.

“Red?”

“Yes, Elizabeth.” He sounds amused as he continues, “Were you expecting someone else?”

She puts her gun down and opens the door quickly. He smiles at her as he enters and removes his hat.

“I’m sorry to drag you out so late,” she says, closing and locking the door behind him.

“It’s hardly dragging when I come voluntarily, Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, but you were probably all settled in for the night—”

“The very nature of my life dictates that even when I am settled in, as you say, I must always be prepared to move.”

“But—”

“Elizabeth, please understand me,” he says as he gently puts his hand on her shoulder. “I am happy to make myself available to you, should you ever need me. I am also happy to be here, regardless of the time of day or night, but mostly I am happy that you called me rather than staying here alone and getting trapped in your own head.”

She huffs a laugh and says, “Is that what you think would have happened otherwise?”

“Let’s not dwell on what may have happened and instead think about what is happening,” he says with a reassuring pat. “Why don’t you pour us both a cup of that delicious-smelling coffee and tell me what you wanted to speak to me about.”

Liz nods and moves back towards the kitchen, trusting that he will follow and make himself comfortable. Neither of them speaks again as she prepares two cups of coffee. She notices that he is looking around him with interest. Her pursuit of Tom’s killer is written all over the room and he examines it all silently. For her part, Liz is remembering similar times spent together, mostly while they were on the run. Making coffee was one of her few contributions to their domestic comfort in those days since it was much safer to leave the food preparation to him. Nothing blows a cover quite like a visit from the fire department, after all. She remembers that time fondly now. She has enough distance from the fear and the trauma immediately following her return that she can actually admit to herself that she enjoyed her time spent in his company, even if she has never admitted it to him directly. She silently promises herself that one day she will tell him what he means to her. She’s learned the folly of counting on too many tomorrows, she’s lost too many people too suddenly to place much stock in the future. So she will tell him, just not yet, she’s not quite ready yet. But one day.

She clears her throat quietly and he turns to look at her again, nodding his thanks for the coffee she pushes towards him. They take seats opposite each other and she takes a quick sip from her cup before she begins, recognising the delaying tactic even as she does it.

“I’ve been thinking about my mother lately.”

“Oh?” Red says, clearly surprised and now a little wary about the direction this conversation may take. Her mother is never an easy topic to broach with him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you anything. You don’t want me to know certain things about my past, I can’t force you to tell me and I’m too tired to even try right now.” The words taste bitter on her tongue, but she needs him to understand. “This isn’t about you, or your relationship with my mother or even your relationship with me.”

Now that she’s started talking, she feels like it may be difficult to stop. She takes a deep breath and tries to regain the temporary calm that was between them mere moments ago.

“I don’t really remember her, but you do. I wanted to speak to you because I can’t stop thinking about how my mother gave me up. She gave me away to protect me.” She can hear the bitterness entering her voice again and tries to adopt a more neutral tone as she continues, “I really wouldn’t know, of course, because I never saw her again.”

Liz glares down at her hands clenched tight on the table, her attempt at neutrality a dismal failure. She needs to make her point quickly, she can already feel her emotions spiralling again.

“Elizabeth—”

“What if the same thing happens to Agnes? What if I never see her again?” Her voice is getting shrill now, she closes her eyes and takes a slow breath through her nose. “What if she spends the rest of her life with only second-hand knowledge of her mother? What if she spends her life with _no_ knowledge of me?”

“Elizabeth, if you were unable to care for Agnes for any reason, she would always be told how much you loved her. She would know what she meant to you,” Red says gently, placatingly. But Liz is in no mood to be placated and she shoots out of her chair, pacing angrily across the room. “You will have a place in her life, Elizabeth. She won’t forget you.”

“Maybe she would be better off forgetting me. I gave Agnes up to protect her, Red. From me. She needs to be protected from how I feel. I need to keep her away from me because I can’t even think straight. I can barely function for myself right now, let alone enough to take care of my child.”

“Elizabeth—”

“No! I gave her up so I could learn how to become her mother again, but I don’t know how to find my way back to that. I can’t get past this anger, this rage that takes me over completely.” She stops her furious pacing to look pleadingly at him. “I need to stay angry, though. I need to stay angry because when I stop, there’s nothing left. I can’t stop thinking about Tom’s killer. I can’t stop thinking about what he took from me, what he’s turned me into.”

She starts pacing again, moving away from him just as he reaches out for her. She doesn’t want his comfort.

“And I don’t want that for her. Agnes deserves so much more than what I can offer, but what if it’s too late? What if she’s already doomed to end up just like me?”

“Elizabeth,” he says gently, reaching out to stop her agitated pacing, “Agnes would be lucky to be like you.”

Liz shakes her head furiously and a little desperately. “No, she wouldn’t. She needs to be like someone else.” She can hear the self-loathing in her own voice but can’t seem to change it. She hangs her head, ashamed. “ _Anyone_ else.”

“Listen to me,” Red says forcefully. “I know that this is difficult for you. I know that giving up Agnes was probably terrifying, not only because of what may or may not happen, but also because of the relief you felt in doing it.”

Liz’s head shoots up, shocked. She is met with an understanding, pained smile.

“Yes, relief. Don’t forget that I know a thing or two about love and regret. I know that the pain of being separated from those that you love the most can be devastating. I know that choosing to walk away from someone you love because you are a danger to them can be one of the most difficult decisions you will ever have to make.” He squeezes her hand in sympathy. “I know that being able to act on such a decision is a mark of true courage.”

Liz sobs suddenly, unable to hold it in. He reaches a hand up to her cheek, cupping it tenderly and coaxing her to look at him again.

“Your mother loved you, Lizzy. More than anything. She would have been so proud of the woman you have become.” Liz shakes her head, disbelieving, but her eyes shine with hope. She wants so much to believe him. “Yes, she would.”

The tears are streaming down her face now and Red pulls her in closer, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly.

“Elizabeth, you are everything your mother hoped you would be. Strong, intelligent, capable, loyal, hard-working, protective, loving, dangerous, beautiful, charming—”

Liz snorts a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m a real sweetheart,” she mutters into his chest before pulling back to look at him.

“Yes, you certainly are,” he says, smiling and smoothing out her hair a little. “The point is that even though your mother gave you up, she loved you and wanted what was best for you. You have done the same for Agnes and one day, when she’s older, she will be proud to have a mother like you.”

“She will?”

“Of course she will. And she will know that you love her because she’ll see it in you, feel it in the way you are with her.”

Liz sighs wistfully at the picture he paints. She wants it more than anything. Her daughter safe, happy and loved.

“One day, you will be ready to be her mother again, but until that day comes, you should try to take comfort in the fact that you have done what is best for her _and_ for yourself.”

Liz feels a single tear drip down her face and watches Red reach out to catch it with his finger. Impulsively, she grabs his hand and holds it to her face, leaning into it and sighing contentedly.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, Red?”

“No one _truly_ deserves me, Lizzy.”

She smiles at him and then brings his hand briefly to her lips, placing a grateful kiss to it before dropping it and turning away, suddenly embarrassed. Liz rubs her face roughly, trying to erase the tears and clear her head.

“Why don’t you go wash your face and give me a chance to finally drink my coffee?”

“It will be cold by now.”

“No matter, I’m sure it will still be very tasty.” He takes a careful sip, seeming to really savour it. “I have very fond memories of coffees shared with you, Lizzy, so forgive me if I linger a little over this one.”

“Please do linger a while, at least while I wash my face. I’ve missed having coffee with you.” She pauses to gather her courage once more. “I’ve missed spending time with you.”

It’s the most she can offer him right now but it’s better than nothing. Red looks a little surprised but smiles graciously.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

“Good.” Liz nods. “Good. I want you to stay.” She moves past him on her way to the bathroom and pauses in the doorway. “Maybe you could make some breakfast for us? Then it really would be like old times.”

“Of course, Lizzy. There must be something I can scrounge up.”

They share a smile before Liz turns away again. There’s another endless day looming ahead of her, but she’s ready to face it. And this time, she won’t have to face it alone.


End file.
